Mirror Bride
by MarySkater
Summary: When the Phantom showed Christine the image of herself as a bride... what was really supposed to happen?


_Author's note: In the ALW stage show, I've been wondering what the Phantom_ _ **meant**_ _to happen when he showed Christine the "mirror bride" illusion. I'm not sure the trick went according to plan. Oh, and I know that stage-Phantom is never given a name, but I'm going to call him Erik!_

MIRROR BRIDE

The Gala had gone splendidly, all according to his plan. Carlotta had been frightened away from performing. Conveniently, the little Giry girl had pushed Christine to the attention of the managers, saving Erik the task of doing so himself. Christine had acquitted herself superbly, and the rest of the Gala had been a triumph, sending the audience home delighted. Oh… most of the rest of the Gala had been a triumph. The ballet had been below expectations. He would have to send a message to Giry senior about that tomorrow. But meanwhile, he had more important things to do.

It had been annoying when that presumptuous boy had pushed himself into Christine's dressing room, but Erik had known that he would have to extract her from some sort of post-show celebration. At least the boy had sent away the managers. And de Chagny himself was no real nuisance, rushing off to make his own plans without listening to Christine's protests. It would serve him right to come back and find her gone.

Erik had waited so patiently for this moment, never showing himself to Christine until now when, intoxicated by her triumph, grateful to him for giving it to her, her courage was high enough to follow him without fear, with mere flickers of maidenly hesitation, as he led her into his dark kingdom. No intruders there tonight. That idiot Buquet had been getting too inquisitive lately, but Erik had frightened him off. He had crafted a mask for himself even more hideous than his own face. Like the face of an Egyptian mummy, it was withered, noseless, his eyes so deeply-covered as to be invisible. And he had leapt out at Buquet, thrusting this nightmare visage at the man, and then vanished, leaving the stagehand a quivering wreck. It would be a long time before he ventured into the cellars again.

Beyond the lake, his house was resplendent with light, a fitting home for the Angel of Music. He made Christine sing again, this time only for him, showing her the brilliance that he could conjure from her voice. Then he sang to her, an enticing serenade to captivate her mind, beguile her with visions of the unearthly delights that he could share with her. And then the great promise –

He had prepared the illusion with such care, the empty mirror-frame, the mannequin with Christine's face, and the glorious wedding-gown. Erik could make many things, but gowns were not included in his talents. He had searched long to find an expert seamstress able to make this up to his design, to the measurements he had obtained by stealth, creeping into Christine's dressing room while she was on stage, to measure her own garments.

The mannequin was so perfect that, when he could not be near the real Christine, he almost fell in love with this wooden doll of her. He would talk to it, tell it of his plans for a beautiful apartment that they could live in, how they would walk in the park on Sundays. He imagined himself carrying his bride-Christine over the threshold of their new home, and he practised with the mannequin, learning how to carry it in his arms, preparing for the day when he would hold not the substitute, but the living, breathing woman.

And so the time came for him to lead Christine to the frame and pull the cover from it. By showing Christine the image of herself as the bride of the Angel of Music, he would wake in her heart the desire to make the dream come true, to be truly his. She gasped, eyes wide in wonder as she stared at it. Now, to confirm the impression he wished to give as a worker of magic, he tweaked the hidden cord; the mirror-bride would bow gracefully and proffer the bouquet, yielding her place to the real Christine.

Disaster! With an ungainly lunge the mannequin collapsed, a bride struck dead, almost falling out of the frame. And Christine flinched back, her knees buckling. Instinctively, in a move rehearsed many times with the mannequin, Erik swept her up into his arms, and then stared down in astonishment at the woman of flesh that he held. He could feel her heartbeat against his body, rather slow, while his own heart was racing. So much for the romantic novels that spoke of "two hearts beating as one"! Carefully he carried her to the couch and laid her down. Tenderly he took the cloak he had left there, and covered her. She was pale but breathing steadily. A simple faint, surely, nothing to threaten her health. She just needed to rest for a while.

Returning to the mirror frame, he examined the cords which worked the mannequin, and found some of them broken or frayed, evidently gnawed by small teeth. Rats! That damned rat-catcher had been remiss in his duties again! He would be punished for his negligence. And if Christine had been harmed by the accident… the Opera House would be looking for a new rat-catcher. But when Erik went back to the couch to check on her, she seemed to have slipped into a natural sleep. It was, after all, very late, and she had had a long day.

Feeling no need for sleep himself, Erik changed his coat for the robe he wore in his house. It brought a welcome splash of colour into his dark existence, as he took up the score of his _Don Juan Triumphant_ , which he had worked on intermittently for years. At first he used only pen and paper, so as not to disturb Christine. But gradually, becoming absorbed in the music, he almost forgot her presence, and started playing phrases on the organ. This was a difficult scene, and so far he had never completed it to his satisfaction. But strong in his memory was the feeling of the mismatched heartbeats, his and Christine's, when he held her. They suggested an odd rhythm, full of tension and drama. Yes! That was exactly what he needed. Utterly immersed, totally unaware of his surroundings, he worked on, through the night. This was right! Nothing could go wrong now…

O-O-O THE END O-O-O

 ** _Afterthought_** _: I based this story on the London production. Belatedly I realised that the Broadway show is slightly different, and the current US tour is very different. I believe that on Broadway Christine usually falls to the floor when she faints. In London the Phantom always catches her and carries her to the couch. (You can see this happen on the original MOTN video with Michael and Sarah, or with Ramin and Sierra in the Phantom 25 film.) In the tour, the Phantom removes the mask himself. I prefer the original stage version where Christine is creeping up behind him to snatch the mask away._


End file.
